Ordinary Evil
by denise1
Summary: When evil strikes close, how would you respond?  What would it take for her to, in the words of Replicarter, 'reach her full potential'. This is my guess.


Title- Ordinary Evil

Author- Denise

Category- Drama, Darkfic

Season- 10

Spoilers – Singularity, Emancipation

Content Level – Teen +

Content Warning- Non-Con (non explicit), Violence, Torture (not graphic), adult themes

Summary- When evil strikes close, how would you respond?

Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Sci-fi and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

This fic was prompted by discussion on Gateworld about what exactly would it take for Sam to go 'dark'. What would it take for her to, in the words of Replicarter, 'reach her full potential'. This is my guess.

It's not a happy fic. Please heed the warnings. No feel good fluff here.

Ordinary Evil

By

Denise

It was 0448 on a Sunday morning when Sam Carter got the phone call no parent ever wanted to get. She threw on some clothes and tore through the pre-dawn streets of Colorado Springs, grateful for the lack of traffic – and police.

The fluorescent lights of the emergency room were painfully bright and harsh and the just added to the surrealness of the situation. It had to be a mistake. Had to be wrong. Some nurse got a wrong number. Sam Carter. It was a relatively common name. It was all a mistake and she was going to be sent home with an apology and something to complain about.

Her denial continued even as the nurse greeted her with a mixture of pity and horror. Her denial remained as she stood there, waiting to be shown back. Her denial remained as she was guided to a shrouded bed. She steeled herself for the awkward moment when she told the nurse that it was just some mistake. When she'd apologize and back away, sorry to have invaded some poor woman's privacy.

Her denial crumpled when the nurse pulled back the curtain and Sam saw the battered and bloody form on the bed, her face so swollen that only her tangled and dirty blond hair gave a clue to her identity.

Sam stopped, frozen in her tracks as horror churned her stomach and threatened to make her sick.

"In some ways, it looks worse than it is," the nurse said. "The swelling will go down in a few days. We've scheduled a consult with our plastics surgeon later on today."

"Plastics?" Sam asked, struggling to comprehend the nurse's words.

"She has some facial fractures. Doctor McNair is very good. He'll be able to fix her up good as new."

"What else happened?" Sam asked, terrified of the answer.

"The doctor will be in soon…" The nurse, Karen her nametag said, shook her head and took a half step back. She looked tired, as if she was at the end of a very long shift. Then again, almost everyone that worked the graveyard seemed to exist in a perpetual state of exhaustion.

"Please," Sam interrupted.

Karen took a deep breath. "She has been beaten. She has multiple contusions and abrasions. Her cheekbone is broken, along with some ribs. There's a possibility of an orbital or skull fracture, we're waiting for a CT scan to confirm. We're monitoring her for internal injuries and bleeding. If we find those then we'll operate to repair the damage. We're pretty sure she has a concussion. She was unconscious when she was brought in and has remained that way," she recited.

"Was…"

"She was raped. Quite violently. That's also part of the internal damage we're monitoring. Our OB/GYN will be in later to do a more complete examination and assessment. We did do a rape kit. The police will collect and test the evidence to see if they can track down who did this. They'll probably want to talk to you at some point. Since you are her next of kin, there is one question we would ask her but…I'm sorry to ask you this but—"

"Morning after pill," Sam interrupted. "I'm familiar with the protocol." She looked at Karen. "Give it to her." Sam made the same decision for Cassie that she had made for herself. The decision that was mandatory for all female personnel.

"I'll let our OB/GYN know your wishes. He'll make the final determination." Sam glared at her. "Colonel, the only reason he'll refuse is if he feels that it puts Ms. Frasier at risk. The pill stimulates her menstrual cycle and he may feel that the danger of hemorrhage is too great. That would be the only reason he'd refuse. If he doesn't administer it, we can know within two weeks if she's pregnant and take other actions."

Karen picked up Cassie's chart, checking her vitals and writing them down. She nodded towards the IV. "She's on simple fluids and some prophylactic antibiotics."

"How did it happen?" Sam asked, gently picking up one of Cassie's hands. Her fingers were cold to the touch and Sam raised her other hand, folding Cassie's in between in an effort to warm them.

"The police aren't sure. She was found by an early bird jogger in Dunstal Park. The presumption is that the assault happened last night."

'And he left her for dead' remained unspoken.

"They should be coming to take her for the scan soon and then she'll be admitted. They'll finish cleaning her up upstairs. And we're going to need some information from you."

Sam nodded. "Can I stay with her until then?"

"Of course. We were hoping that you or someone would be here with her when she wakes up. It's possible that she'll remember nothing about the attack. But it's also possible that she will. A familiar face can do wonders to calm." Sam nodded. "If you would like, the hospital has a very good rape counselor. I can have her come down—"

"You said she might not be awake—"

"It's for you," Karen said. "You'll be on the forefront of everything she's going through. It can be helpful if the family members have an idea what to expect as she recovers."

"I'll think about it," Sam said. "I have some other resources that I can access."

"Of course. Just let me know if you need anything." She left and Sam sat down, her hands still clutching Cassie's. She studied the girl, memorizing the bruises that mottled her skin, the stark black stitches stretched tight by swollen tissues. Flecks of blood matted her hair and Sam reached out, trying to smooth the tangle with her fingers. Tears streamed unchecked down her face as grief and heartbreak slowly morphed into a cold and calm rage.

:::::::::

Over the years, Jack O'Neill had learned to read his friends. He'd learned to identify that twinkle in Teal'c's eyes that told him the Jaffa was pulling his leg. Or the high pitch of Daniel's voice that meant he not only wanted to study something, he needed to.

With Carter, Jack could tell if she was tired or amused, frustrated or pissed. But there was one thing he didn't ever think he'd heard in her voice, no matter how hard their day had been, how frantic or desperate the situation, there was one thing he'd never heard.

And it was that tone of quiet despair that had him hurrying to Andrews, tossing all the influence that he could muster to get himself on the first flight to Colorado.

The second he landed, he commandeered a staff car and driver to take him to Colorado Springs Memorial. Once there he was grateful that, even in a civilian hospital, the Springs was enough of a military town that the stars he sometimes cursed, did wonders to ease his path as he was all but escorted to Cassie's room.

Just hours after her phone call, he stepped into the darkened room, hesitating on the threshold. Even though it was early evening, the blinds were drawn and the room was quiet. He walked in, not quite remembering the last time he felt so reluctant.

"Sir." Carter looked up and Jack saw relief and surprise flit across her face. "I…you came."

"Of course I came," Jack said. He moved closer, looking past Carter to the young woman lying on the bed. "How is she?"

"Stable. Which, I guess, could be worse."

Jack moved to the other side of the bed and studied his adopted daughter. "What happened?"

"No one knows for sure. A jogger found her this morning. Some…" She stopped and Jack saw her struggle with her words. "Attacked her and left her to die," she bit out, her voice cold and hard.

"Did, aah…" Jack fumbled over the word, simply unable to utter it. Saying it made it real and it couldn't be real.

"He raped her," Sam said. Jack closed his eyes, desperately wishing that he'd heard her wrong, but knowing that he hadn't. "There doesn't seem to be any internal bleeding or if there was it stopped itself. She has three broken ribs and she'll need some surgery to fix her face," Sam listed. Jack looked up. "The bastard broke her cheekbone."

A nurse appeared in the doorway and hesitated, only coming in when Jack motioned. He stepped back to let the woman check Cassie's vitals. Jack watched her, too many stays in the infirmary giving him the knowledge that Cassie's vitals, while not great, were okay. "What's the verdict?" he asked, seeking rapport with the woman.

"They could certainly be worse, general," she said. She looked at Sam. "Ma'am, she's sedated. She won't be waking up for hours and you've been here all day. You should go and get something to eat."

Sam shook her head. "No, I…"

"Carter, I'm starved," Jack said, latching onto something to do with the desperateness of a drowning man clutching a life preserver. "Let's go and get some food."

"No, sir…"

"Yes." Jack moved to her side. "I need to get out of this monkey suit." He plucked at his wrinkled dress blues. "Let's go and get some food. I'll change, you can change and we'll come back here for the long haul." She wavered and Jack grabbed her arm, tugging gently. "I'm sure that…" He waved his hand at the nurse.

"Marcia," she supplied.

"Marcia will be perfectly willing to give us a call if the slightest thing changes."

Marcia nodded. "It's a slow night, ma'am. I'd be happy to keep an eye on her."

Sam sighed and nodded. "Okay."

Jack led her out of the hospital and towards her car. Risking her wrath he held out his hand for her keys and knew she was exhausted when she handed them over. He drove down the road, pulling into the first place he saw that served both food and alcohol. He led her inside and claimed a booth in the back of the restaurant. With her agreement he ordered a couple of beers and a burger for each of them. "Where's Daniel?" he asked.

She shook her head, barely looking up as the waitress set two bottles of beer on the table. "They're…out of the country right now," she said.

The waitress left. "Landry can recall them, you know," Jack said.

"To be honest, sir…I just can't…"

"Deal with both Daniel and Cassie at the same time?" he asked, recognizing the signs of 'stressed out Carter' when he saw it.

"Is that horrible to admit?" She asked softly.

Jack shook his head. "They can help you, you know. You don't have to do this alone."

"I'm not going to," she said. "I just need a few days. I gotta wrap my brain around it before I deal with Daniel and Cameron and Vala." She took a deep drink of her beer.

"What about the guy that did this?"

"The police won't tell me if they got any DNA from the…kit."

"They probably don't know yet. Did the doctors give you any idea when she'd be home?"

Sam shook her head. "It depends on the neurological exam. She woke up for a few minutes but I don't think she even knew where she was." Jack nodded. "Is it horrible that I hope she…is it worse for her to remember what happened or for it to be a blank?"

Jack shook his head. "I don't know." He took a pull of his beer. "You know…and don't you take this wrong…that was the one thing that always scared the hell out of me." Sam frowned. "That I'd be having this conversation with someone else, but about you." He looked her in the eyes. "And don't you give me the whole self defense thing."

Sam shook her head. "Sometimes it doesn't make a damn bit of difference," she said, her voice flat with fatal acceptance.

Jack looked up sharply. "Sam?"

"Turghan tried," she admitted. "But I managed to knee him hard enough…I think he had to cough his nuts loose."

"Why the hell didn't you report it?" He couldn't keep the anger out of his voice. He'd suspected, and he'd even asked Frasier, pressured her to tell him. Only to have the woman reassure him, quite emphatically, that Sam was fine.

"Seriously? Sir, I was only on the team because Hammond made you take me. Not to mention that there were plenty of people looking for any reason to not only shut the SGC down but to keep women off the teams. I dealt with it and it was a situation that never repeated itself."

Jack took a drink, at a loss after her revelation. Fortunately their burgers arrived and there was no need for conversation as they ate. They finished their food and beer and Jack laid money on the table before they went outside. He handed Sam her keys. "If you don't mind, drop me at my place. I'll get some stuff together and meet you back at the hospital." Jack looked at her sighed. "C'mere" He pulled her close, wrapping her in his arms. "She'll make it," he promised. "It'll take time, but she'll pull through. And all of us are going to help her."

::::::::::

"I don't remember," Cassie said, her voice shaking. Her hands shook as she pushed back her hair.

"It's okay," Sam said, holding the girl's hand. Cassie had made a lot of progress in the past two weeks. She was awake and alert and the bruises were starting to fade. But even as she starting to physically heal, emotionally she was still vulnerable. Nightmares plagued her sleep and her amnesia seemed to be more of a curse than a blessing.

Cassie was doing well enough that Jack had left soon after the surgery to fix her cheekbone, promising that he'd be back in a week or two, once he dug out his desk and attended a few meetings. He and Cassie even had a tentative plan for her to come to DC for a while, once she was up to the rigors of a long flight.

"That's okay, Ms. Frasier," Detective Henson said, closing her notebook. "You've helped us out quite a bit. Thank you, Ms. Carter."

She excused herself from the room and Sam followed, stopping her in the hall. "Detective. What now?"

"Ma'am?" The detective frowned at her. She was clearly in a hurry and seemed to be struggling between answering Sam's question and getting on with other things she needed to do.

"Do you have a suspect? When does the DNA come back? What do we do next?" Detective Henson sighed and looked away and it seemed like she was struggling with what to say next. "Please, tell me."

"He wore a condom and probably gloves. The only forensic evidence we were able to get was a bit of skin under her fingernails."

"But you got DNA, right?" A nurse walked by, glancing at the two women as she continued her duties.

"Yes. However when we spoke to the suspect he claimed that he and Ms. Frasier were in the same bar. She hit on him. He turned her down and she reacted by slapping him, scratching him at the same time."

"And you're buying that lame story?"

"His wife also gave him an alibi for that night."

"Wife? He's married?"

"Not every rapist is a lone wolf loser," Henson said.

"Okay, but—"

"Look, I'm afraid…without a witness, without Ms. Frasier's ID, it's a case of 'he said, she said' and circumstantial evidence. If we arrest him and press charges, the case will go nowhere. Chances are the DA won't even take it to trial. And if he does…the defense will probably tear her apart." She sighed. "They do anything to get their clients off."

"She's been remembering more and more," Sam said. "Maybe…"

Henson shook her head. "The fact that it's been two weeks and she still doesn't remember doesn't bode well. Even if she remembered tomorrow the defense will either claim that she was coached or that she's making it up. I've even seen a few cases where the defense claims that the whole thing is some sort of warped fantasy of the survivor."

Anger boiled in Sam's gut. "There is no way…"

"Ma'am please. I want nothing more than to arrest this SOB and lock him away for the rest of his life. But I have also seen women…sometimes the trial is more traumatic than the attack. Take care of your daughter. Help her heal. Her case will remain open until the statute of limitations expires. Eventually the bastard will mess up and we'll get him."

"Eventually?" Sam jumped on the word.

"Ma'am."

"No. What do you mean eventually?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I'll be in contact if we need anything more and please don't hesitate to call if I can do anything for you."

She turned and retreated down the hall, leaving Sam standing outside of Cassie's room. 'Eventually', the word tugged at her mind. It was a puzzling choice of words. Eventually.

If the detective wouldn't answer Sam's question, she'd do it herself.

::::::::::

She wondered if she should be concerned that the next step was so easy. But years of researching and planning missions gave her skills that served her well.

A cheap laptop bought with cash and a 'pay as you go' cell phone got her anonymity on the internet. Slipping out to various cafes, parks and free wifi zones allowed her hours of untraceable surfing. Thanks to a late night conversation with Pete she found the police database easy to hack. Once she was in, the 'user friendly' interface of files searchable by both victim and offender allowed her quick access to Cassie's file.

She read every page and looked at every photo, her grief and horror quietly solidifying into purpose as she memorized every aspect of the attack. She found the name of the chief – and only – suspect. She read through his file, memorizing his address, his name, his face.

She searched him out, not just in the police database, but public record as well. She knew every speeding ticket he'd gotten, every brush with the law. She knew that the police had been called to his home a half dozen times by the neighbors, concerned about the yelling and screaming. She knew that the wife never pressed charges. That she always took the blame and stood by 'her man'.

She knew that he was the suspect in multiple rapes, many of them matching the exact same MO, but none of them with enough evidence to do anything. She looked at the faces of his other victims. Women whose lives had been changed. Some that survived, and some that hadn't. A predator. A hunter. A monster.

After Cassie came home, Sam took full advantage of everyone's willingness to help, letting others stay with the girl while Sam continued her research.

She visited the location of Cassie's attack, studying it with eyes trained in tactics. She saw where Cassie was found, figured out where He had to have attacked her. She studied the park for paths of approach and concealment.

She found that He liked to listen to his satellite radio and his car had OnStar. And that their security was just as easy to penetrate as the police's. His credit cards were a bit harder to crack, but they did eventually. It seemed that they didn't mind if anyone monitored what a person spent as long as no one tried to spend someone else's money.

He was a creature of habit and it didn't take her long to know his daily movements. She found that he would sometimes party for days, going from bar to bar before stumbling home and so she knew that his absence would likely go unnoticed for hours if not days.

She watched him for weeks as Cassie slowly recovered. It was when He started to spend hours lurking around Dunstal Park that Sam knew she had to move. Daniel and Vala were thrilled to take Cassie out to dinner and the second she was gone, Sam sprang into action.

She methodically prepared her gear, not quite sure if it was a good thing that she had enough bits and pieces lying around the house to be properly geared up for a covert ops. A homemade bracelet of aluminum, magnets and bits of steel encircled her upper arm, shrouding her transponder and making her invisible. She turned off her cell phone and left it on her dresser.

She drove across town to a movie theater, using her credit card to buy a ticket and snacks. Once in the darkness of the theater, she waited for the movie to start, then pulled a windbreaker out of her bag and slid it on, using the hood to disguise her face as she slipped out the side exit.

She drove to the park, stopping behind a deserted gas station to pull her black BDU pants and shirt on over her clothes. Small strips of electrical tape altered her license plate and she carefully drove to the park, taking care to stay off any streets that had traffic cameras.

She left her car in a dark corner of the park, near his favorite hunting ground. She backed in to make her plate harder to see. She got out of the car and crept into underbrush, years of playing tag with Jaffa giving her the skills to find Him, stalk Him and choose the perfect spot.

She watched Him as he walked close to a trail, secreting himself behind a large bush. The hunter became the hunted as she crept up on Him, her senses going into overdrive. She could hear the wind rustling through the leaves and the occasional car driving down a street at the edge of the park. She could smell the bitter twang of last fall's leaves and the faint stench of discarded lunches.

He lurked behind the bush and she could smell his sweat, hear his breathing and feel his anticipation. She heard a slapping sound and realized that a jogger was coming down the path. Her prey tensed and she raised her weapon. She took aim and fired the tranquilizer dart. It hit home and he fell with a thumping sound that the jogger – courtesy of her ear buds – didn't seem to notice as she calmly jogged past.

Sam waited until she was gone and then made her way over to the man. She secured his hands and feet with zip ties and picked him up, staggering under his weight. Fortunately, he was a relatively small man. Maybe that was why he brutalized his victims so, beating them was the only way he could control them.

She carried him to her car, taking care to keep to the shadows of the park. She dumped him in the trunk and got into the driver's seat, breathing hard from the exertion. Removing her balaclava and jacket, she carefully pulled out of the parking spot. She pulled into an empty parking lot and slid off her BDU pants, shoving them and her jacket into a duffel bag. The tape was pulled off her plate and she wiped the whole thing down, removing any trace.

She tucked the duffel bag down in the passenger seat and made her way to the other side of town, again sticking to the back streets. She stopped at a Starbucks drive thru near the movie theater, using her debit card to buy a coffee and Danish that she really didn't want.

Alibi in place she made her way home, taking care to insure that the garage door was totally down before she got out of the car. She locked the garage door and opened the trunk. She pulled on a pair of gloves and He was just starting to stir when she lifted him out of the trunk. She dropped him onto a large sheet of plastic covering her garage floor.

She sat on a stool, studying him as she waited for him to fully awake. He didn't look evil. She expected him to look evil. He looked…normal, ordinary. Like any guy she'd see on the street. Like any person she'd see in the halls of the SGC. His brown hair had been neatly combed but was not mussed. He was pale but clean shaven and his clothes were basically clean and neat.

But if she had learned nothing else from years of field ops, she knew that evil wore no singular face.

"What the—"

Sam stepped forward and kicked him viciously in the gut. He doubled up as much as his bonds would let him. "Shut up," she growled. She grabbed a roll of duct tape off the bench and tore off a piece to cover his mouth. She pressed it into place and stepped back. "I would love nothing more than to beat the crap out of you. I fantasized about it you know," she said, picking up an old tire iron. "About smashing your face, about hearing your bones crush and smelling your blood." She leaned over, making sure that she was in his field of vision. "But I can't do that. It gets messy. Something I'm sure you know all too well. And this isn't going to be messy."

He stared at her, his breath rasping harshly through his nose, his brown eyes wide and pupils dilated. She knew fear, and she saw it in his eyes.

It was exactly what she saw in Cassie's eyes every time the girl woke up screaming at 0300. Her heart pounding so hard that Sam swore she could see it. Her clothes and sheets soaked with sweat.

"If I was taking my time, I'd do this." Sam swung the tire iron, smashing his kneecap with a loud crack. He screamed into the gag, his body arching in pain. "Or maybe this." She swung again, this time breaking his arm. He screamed again, tears welling up in his eyes and the tendons in his neck stretched tight.

"Do you want me to stop?" she asked. "DO YOU!" She dug her fingers into his hair and pulled his head up. He nodded. "Will you beg?" she asked. "Will you?" He nodded frantically, hopefully, his eyes pleading with her to stop.

She dropped his head and picked up a zat from the table. She armed it and walked back to him. "Did she beg too?" she asked.

She fired the alien weapon and watched as the blue energy danced over his broken body, his own muscle contractions grinding smashed bones together. He whimpered behind his gag and then he glared at her, his eyes full of defiance and hate. Wordlessly, Sam fired a second time and he slumped lifeless to the floor.

She stood there for a moment, staring at his body, denying how much her hand was shaking. Driven by her plan, she set the zat down. She pulled the old blanket and plastic sheet that lined her trunk out and used them, along with the plastic sheet on the floor, to shroud the body. She laid the tire iron on top of the bundle. She retrieved her duffel bag and it joined the rest of her things from this night. It all needed to go away. She changed her clothes and removed the bracelet. She wrapped herself in a robe and laid the clothing on top of the body. She then picked up the zat, firing three times in quick succession. As if it was magic, everything vanished, the garage floor showing no signs of what had just happened.

Satisfied that, other than the zat and tranquilizer gun, no sign of her events remained, Sam left her garage and walked through the kitchen.

She took a shower and made herself a cup of coffee before she settled down in front of the TV. She stared sightlessly into the flickering images and realized that the anger that had carried her for the past few weeks was gone. In its place, a peace. That peace morphed into satisfaction as she realized, of all the blood on her hands, all the lives that she'd taken, His death was one that she would never regret.

~Fin~

Note: There will never be a sequel to this fic. At least there will never be an exploration of Cassie and her recovery. To give that proper justice it would take time and talent and delving into emotions that I don't think I can. If someone wants to explore it, please feel free, but I will not.


End file.
